Part 6

Mar. 11, 186----Went to church in the morning. the fernace was all write. Mister Lennard preeched about loving our ennymies, and told every one if he had any angry feelings towards ennyone to go to him and shake hands and see how much better you wood feel. i know how it is becaus when me and Beany are mad we dont have eny fun and when we make up the one who is to blam always wants to treet. why when Beany was mad with me becaus i went home from Gil Steels surprise party with Lizzie Towle, Ed Towles sister, he woodent speak to me for 2 days, and when we made up he treated me to ice cream with 2 spoons and he let me dip twice to his once. he took pretty big dips to make up. Beany is mad if enny of the fellers go with Lizzie Towle. she likes Beany better than she does enny of the fellers and Beany ought to be satisfied, but sometimes he acks mad when i go down there to fite roosters with Ed. i gess he needent worry much, no feller isnt going to leave of fiting roosters to go with no girls. well i most forgot that i was going to say, but after church i went up to Micky Gould who was going to fite me behind the school house, and said Micky lets be friends and Micky said, huh old Skinny, i can lick you in 2 minits and i said you aint man enuf and he called me a nockneed puke, and i called him a wall eyed lummix and he give me a paist in the eye and i gave him a good one in the mouth, and then we rassled and Micky threw me and i turned him, and he got hold of my new false bosom and i got hold of his hair, and the fellers all hollered hit him Micky, paist him Skinny, and Mister Purington, Pewts father pulled us apart and i had Mickys paper collar and necktie and some of his hair and he had my false bosom and when i got home father made me go to bed and stay there all the afternoon for fiting, but i guess he didnt like my losing my false bosom. ennyway he asked me how many times i hit Micky and which licked. he let me get up at supper time. next time i try to love my ennymy i am a going to lick him first.

Went to a sunday school concert in the evening. Keene and Cele sung now i lay me down to sleep. they was a lot of people sung together and Mister Gale beat time. Charlie Gerish played the violin and Miss Packard sung. i was scart when Keene and Cele sung for i was afraid they would break down, but they dident, and people said they sung like night harks. i gess if they knowed how night harks sung they woodent say much. father felt pretty big and to hear him talk you wood think he did the singing. he give them ten cents apeace. i dident get none. you gest wait, old man till i git my cornet.

Went to a corcus last night. me and Beany were in the hall in the afternoon helping Bob Carter sprinkle the floor and put on the sordust. the floor was all shiny with wax and aufully slipery. so Bob got us to put on some water to take off the shiny wax. well write in front of the platform there is a low platform where they get up to put in their votes and then step down and Beany said, dont put any water there only jest dry sordust. so i dident. well that night we went erly to see the fun. Gim Luverin got up and said there was one man which was the oldest voter in town and he ought to vote the first, the name of this destinkuished sitizen was John Quincy Ann Pollard. then old mister Pollard got up and put in his vote and when he stepped down his heels flew up and he went down whak on the back of his head and 2 men lifted him up and lugged him to a seat, and then Ed Derborn, him that rings the town bell, stepped up pretty lively and went flat and swort terrible, and me and Beany nearly died we laffed so. well it kept on, people dident know what made them fall, and Gim Odlin sat write down in his new umbrella and then they sent me down stairs for a pail of wet sordust and when i was coming up i heard an awful whang, and when i got up in the hall they were lugging old mister Stickney off to die and they put water on his head and lugged him home in a hack. me and Beany dont know what to do. if we dont tell, Bob will lose his place and if we do we will get licked.

Mar. 31. April fool day tomorrow. i am laying for Beany. old Francis licked 5 fellers today becaus they sung rong when we was singing speek kindly it is better for to rule by luv than feer.

June 14. Rashe Belnap and Horris Cobbs go in swimming every morning at six o'clock. i got a licking today that beat the one Beany got. last summer me and Tomtit Tomson and Cawcaw Harding and Whack and Poz and Boog Chadwick went in swimming in May and all thru the summer until October. one day i went in 10 times. well i dident say anything about it to father so as not to scare him. well today he dident go to Boston and he said i am going to teech you to swim. when i was as old as you i cood swim said he, and you must lern, i said i have been wanting to lern to swim, for all the other boys can swim. so we went down to the gravil and i peeled off my close and got ready, now said he, you jest wade in up to your waste and squat down and duck your head under. i said the water will get in my nose. he said no it wont jest squat rite down. i cood see him laffin when he thought i wood snort and sputter.

so i waded out a little ways and then div in and swam under water most across, and when i came up i looked to see if father was surprised. gosh you aught to have seen him. he had pulled off his coat and vest and there he stood up to his waste in the water with his eyes jest bugging rite out as big as hens eggs, and he was jest a going to dive for my dead body. then i turned over on my back and waved my hand at him. he dident say anything for a minute, only he drawed in a long breth. then he began to look foolish, and then mad, and then he turned and started to slosh back to the bank where he slipped and went in all over. When he got to the bank he was pretty mad and yelled for me to come out. when i came out he cut a stick and whaled me, and as soon as i got home he sent me to bed for lying, but i gess he was mad becaus i about scart the life out of him. but that nite i heard him telling mother about it and he said that he div 3 times for me in about thirty feet of water. but he braged about my swimming and said i cood swim like a striped frog. i shall never forget how his boots went kerslosh kerslosh kerslosh when we were skinning home thru croslots. i shall never forget how that old stick hurt either. ennyhow he dident say ennything about not going in again, so i gess i am all rite.

June 15, 186----Johnny Heeld, a student, came to me and wanted me to carry some tickets to a dance round to the girls in the town. there was about 1 hundred of them. he read the names over to me and i said i knew them all. so after school me and Beany started out and walked all over town and give out the tickets. i had a long string of names and every time i wood leave one i wood mark out the name. i dident give the Head girls any because they told father about some things that me and Beany and Pewt did and the Parmer girls and the Cilley girls lived way up on the plains and i dident want to walk up there, so when i went over to Hemlock side to give one, i went over to the factory boarding house and give some to them. they was auful glad to get them too and said they would go to the dance. some people was not at home and so i gave their tickets to the next house. it took me till 8 o'clock and i got 1 dollar for it. i dont believe those girls that dident get their tickets will care much about going ennyway. i gess the Head girls wont want to tell on me another time.

June 23. there is a dead rat in the wall in my room. it smells auful.

A MOTHERS' MEETING[4]

BY MADELINE BRIDGES

"Where's the maternal parent of This boy that stands in need of beating, And of this babe that pines for love?" "Oh, she is at a Mothers' Meeting!"

"Fair daughter, why these young tears shed, For passion's tale, too sweet and fleeting, Lonely and mute, uncomforted?" "My mother's at a Mothers' Meeting."

"Man, whom misfortunes jeer and taunt, Whom frauds forsake, and hope is cheating, Fly to your mother's arms." "I can't-- You see, she's at a Mothers' Meeting."

Alas, what next will woman do? Love, duty, children, home, maltreating, The while she, smiling, rallies to The roll-call of a Mothers' Meeting!

FOOTNOTES:

[4] Lippincott's Magazine.

MISTER RABBIT'S LOVE AFFAIR

BY FRANK L. STANTON

One day w'en Mister Rabbit wuz a-settin' in de grass He see Miss Mary comin', en he wouldn't let her pass, Kaze he know she lookin' purty in de river lookin'glass, O Mister Rabbit, in de mawnin'!

But de Mockin'bird wuz singin' in de blossom en de dew, En he know 'bout Mister Rabbit, en he watchin' er 'im, too; En Miss Mary heah his music, en she tell 'im "Howdy-do!" O Mister Rabbit, in de mawnin'!

Mister Rabbit 'low he beat 'im, en he say he'll l'arn ter sing, En he tried it all de winter, en he kep' it up in spring; But he wuzn't buil' fer singin', kaze he lack de voice en wing,-- Good-by, Mister Rabbit, in de mawnin'!

OUR HIRED GIRL

BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY

Our hired girl, she's 'Lizabuth Ann; An' she can cook best things to eat! She ist puts dough in our pie-pan, An' pours in somepin' 'at's good and sweet, An' nen she salts it all on top With cinnamon; an' nen she'll stop An' stoop an' slide it, ist as slow, In th' old cook-stove, so's 'twon't slop An' git all spilled; nen bakes it, so It's custard pie, first thing you know! An' nen she'll say: "Clear out o' my way! They's time fer work, an' time fer play!-- Take yer dough, an' run, Child; run! Er I cain't git no cookin' done!"

When our hired girl 'tends like she's mad, An' says folks got to walk the chalk When _she's_ around, er wisht they had, I play out on our porch an' talk To th' Raggedy Man 'at mows our lawn; An' he says "_Whew!_" an' nen leans on His old crook-scythe, and blinks his eyes An' sniffs all round an' says,--"I swawn! Ef my old nose don't tell me lies, It 'pears like I smell custard-pies!" An' nen _he'll_ say,-- "'Clear out o' my way! They's time fer work an' time fer play! Take yer dough, an' run, Child; run! Er _she_ cain't git no cookin' done!'"

Wunst our hired girl, one time when she Got the supper, an' we all et, An' it was night, an' Ma an' me An' Pa went wher' the "Social" met,-- An' nen when we come home, an' see A light in the kitchen-door, an' we Heerd a maccordeum, Pa says "Lan'- O'-Gracious! who can _her_ beau be?" An' I marched in, an' 'Lizabuth Ann Wuz parchin' corn fer the Raggedy Man! _Better_ say "Clear out o' the way! They's time fer work, an' time fer play! Take the hint, an' run, Child; run! Er we cain't git no _courtin'_ done!"

THE REASON

BY IRONQUILL

Says John last night: "William, by grab! I'm beat To know why stolen kisses Taste so sweet."

Says William: "Sho! That's easily explained-- It's 'cause they're _syrup_- titiously obtained."

* * * * *

O cruel thought! O words of cruel might! The coroner He sat on John that night.

ONCL' ANTOINE ON 'CHANGE

BY WALLACE BRUCE AMSBARY

(_Antoine Boisvert, Raconteur._)

I've jus' com' from Chicago town, A seein' all de sights From stockyard to de ballet gairl, All drass' in spangled tights. But all de worstes' nonsens' T'roo vich I got to wade, I t'ink de t'ing dat gats de cake Ees place called Board of Trade.

I heard moch talk about dem chap Dey call de Bull an' Bear, Dat play aroun' with price of stock An' get you unaware. Who'll tell you w'at your wheat Will bring in Fevuary nex', In jus' so smood an' quiet vay De curé read his tex'.

An' dere dey vere out on de floor, De mans who mak' de price Of all de country produce, A lookin' smood an' nice. But dey had vink opon dere eye Dat look you t'roo an' t'roo, Like tricky bunko steerer ven He's hunting after you.

Dey got de ball to roll ver' swif' An' firs' fall from de dock Vas bottom off on July pork; An' heem dat held de stock Commence to hiss an' wriggle Lak' a yellow rattlesnake; De res' buzz jus' lak' bumblebee Stirred op vit hayin' rake.

Dis bottom off on July pork Is strike me kin' of queer, I's t'ink dat hogs is good for eat Mos' all of de 'hole year. Dose feller on Chicago town Is mak' such fonny phrase Dat--_entre nous_--I sometimes t'ink Dat som' of dem ees craz'.

Den dere ees somet'ing happen Dat mak' 'em more excite', W'en news ees com' overe de vires Dat Boer an' Britain fight, I nevere saw such meex-op yet, In days since I be born, Dey scowl an' call wan nodder names, Dere faces show moch scorn.

Wan man grow wild an' mos'ly craz', De tears stream off his eyes, Dere's nodder man dat's laf an' shout, It's mak' me mos' surprise. I guess it mak' som' diffe_rance_ Vich side you're on de fence, But in dis Bear an' Bull meex-op I see not ver' moch sense.

HEZEKIAH BEDOTT'S OPINION

BY FRANCES M. WHICHER

He was a wonderful hand to moralize, husband was, 'specially after he begun to enjoy poor health. He made an observation once when he was in one of his poor turns, that I never shall forget the longest day I live. He says to me one winter evenin' as we was a settin' by the fire,--I was a knittin' (I was always a wonderful great knitter) and he was a smokin' (he was a master hand to smoke, though the doctor used to tell him he'd be better off to let tobacker alone; when he was well he used to take his pipe and smoke a spell after he'd got the chores done up, and when he wa'n't well, used to smoke the biggest part of the time). Well, he took his pipe out of his mouth and turned toward me, and I knowed something was comin', for he had a pertikkeler way of lookin' round when he was gwine to say anything oncommon. Well, he says to me, says he, "Silly" (my name was Prissilly naterally, but he ginerally called me "Silly," cause 'twas handier, you know). Well, he says to me, says he, "Silly," and he looked pretty sollem, I tell you--he had a sollem countenance naterally--and after he got to be deacon 'twas more so, but since he'd lost his health he looked sollemer than ever, and certainly you wouldent wonder at it if you knowed how much he underwent. He was troubled with a wonderful pain in his chest, and amazin' weakness in the spine of his back, besides the pleurissy in the side, and having the ager a considerable part of the time, and bein' broke of his rest o' nights 'cause he was so put to 't for breath when he laid down. Why it's an onaccountable fact that when that man died he hadent seen a well day in fifteen year, though when he was married and for five or six years after I shouldent desire to see a ruggeder man that he was. But the time I'm speakin' of he'd been out o' health nigh upon ten year, and O dear sakes! how he had altered since the first time I ever see him! That was to a quiltin' to Squire Smith's a spell afore Sally was married. I'd no idee then that Sal Smith was a gwine to be married to Sam Pendergrass. She'd ben keepin' company with Mose Hewlitt, for better'n a year, and everybody said _that_ was a settled thing, and lo and behold! all of a sudding she up and took Sam Pendergrass. Well, that was the first time I ever see my husband, and if anybody'd a told me then that I should ever marry him, I should a said--but lawful sakes! I most forgot, I was gwine to tell you what he said to me that evenin', and when a body begins to tell a thing I believe in finishin' on't some time or other. Some folks have a way of talkin' round and round and round forevermore, and never come to the pint. Now there's Miss Jinkins, she that was Poll Bingham afore she was married, she is the tejusest individooal to tell a story that ever I see in all my born days. But I was a gwine to tell you what husband said. He says to me, says he, "Silly"; says I, "What?" I dident say, "What, Hezekier?" for I dident like his name. The first time I ever heard it I near killed myself a laffin. "Hezekier Bedott," says I, "well, I would give up if I had sich a name," but then you know I had no more idee o' marryin' the feller than you had this minnit o' marryin' the governor. I s'pose you think it's curus we should a named our oldest son Hezekiah. Well, we done it to please father and mother Bedott; it's father Bedott's name, and he and mother Bedott both used to think that names had ought to go down from gineration to gineration. But we always called him Kier, you know. Speakin' o' Kier, he is a blessin', ain't he? and I ain't the only one that thinks so, I guess. Now don't you never tell nobody that I said so, but between you and me I rather guess that if Kezier Winkle thinks she is a gwine to ketch Kier Bedott she is a _leetle_ out of her reckonin'. But I was going to tell what husband said. He says to me, says he, "Silly"; I says, says I, "What?" If I dident say "what" when he said "Silly" he'd a kept on saying "Silly," from time to eternity. He always did, because you know, he wanted me to pay pertikkeler attention, and I ginerally did; no woman was ever more attentive to her husband than what I was. Well, he says to me, says he, "Silly." Says I, "What?" though I'd no idee what he was gwine to say, dident know but what 'twas something about his sufferings, though he wa'n't apt to complain, but he frequently used to remark that he wouldent wish his worst enemy to suffer one minnit as he did all the time; but that can't be called grumblin'--think it can? Why I've seen him in sitivation when you'd a thought no mortal could a helped grumblin'; but _he_ dident. He and me went once in the dead of winter in a one-hoss shay out to Boonville to see a sister o' hisen. You know the snow is amazin' deep in that section o' the kentry. Well, the hoss got stuck in one o' them are flambergasted snow-banks, and there we sot, onable to stir, and to cap all, while we was a sittin' there, husband was took with a dretful crik in his back. Now _that_ was what I call a _perdickerment_, don't you? Most men would a swore, but husband dident. He only said, says he, "Consarn it." How did we get out, did you ask? Why we might a benn sittin' there to this day fur as _I_ know, if there hadent a happened to come along a mess o' men in a double team, and they hysted us out. But I was gwine to tell you that observation of hisen. Says he to me, says he, "Silly" (I could see by the light o' the fire, there dident happen to be no candle burnin', if I don't disremember, though my memory is sometimes ruther forgitful, but I know we wa'n't apt to burn candles exceptin' when we had company)--I could see by the light of the fire that his mind was oncommon solemnized. Says he to me, says he. "Silly." I says to him, says I, "What?" He says to me, "_We're all poor critters!_"

WHAT LACK WE YET?

BY ROBERT J. BURDETTE

When Washington was president He was a mortal icicle; He never on a railroad went, And never rode a bicycle.

He read by no electric lamp, Ne'er heard about the Yellowstone; He never licked a postage stamp, And never saw a telephone.

His trousers ended at his knees; By wire he could not snatch dispatch; He filled his lamp with whale-oil grease, And never had a match to scratch.

But in these days it's come to pass, All work is with such dashing done, We've all these things, but then, alas-- We seem to have no Washington!

JACOB

BY PHOEBE CARY

He dwelt among "Apartments let," About five stories high; A man, I thought, that none would get, And very few would try.

A boulder, by a larger stone Half hidden in the mud, Fair as a man when only one Is in the neighborhood.

He lived unknown, and few could tell When Jacob was not free; But he has got a wife--and O! The difference to me!

TO BARY JADE

BY CHARLES FOLLEN ADAMS

The bood is beabig brighdly, love; The sdars are shidig too; While I ab gazig dreabily, Add thigkig, love, of you. You caddot, oh! you caddot kdow, By darlig, how I biss you-- (Oh, whadt a fearful cold I've got!-- Ck-_tish_-u! Ck-ck-_tish_-u!)

I'b sittig id the arbor, love, Where you sat by by side, Whed od that calb, autubdal dight You said you'd be by bride. Oh! for wud bobedt to caress Add tederly to kiss you; Budt do! we're beddy biles apart-- (Ho-_rash_-o! Ck-ck-_tish_-u!)